


fear, thy name is lust

by wndrw8



Category: Bates Motel (2013)
Genre: F/M, Smut, completely unnecessary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 03:51:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3713902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wndrw8/pseuds/wndrw8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"In this moment, he finally understands why her sons are the way they are. Why every man that’s approached her since she’s moved here has turned to ashes under her hands. </p>
<p>She could ruin him and he’d die a happy man."</p>
<p>post-3x05, Norma runs to Romero's after her confrontation with Dylan and Norman</p>
            </blockquote>





	fear, thy name is lust

**Author's Note:**

> it's been two years since I last posted in this fandom and I'm feeling a little rusty!

When she arrives at his house, he’s wearing nothing but jeans and a blue t-shirt. With others, he would feel exposed like this but he and Norma are past that by now. (He’s seen her peel the clothes from her flesh in the shadow of that upstairs bedroom. She’s seen him bloody, seen him smile.) 

“Norma,” he says. 

She tenses in the doorway. Her hair is disheveled and dried tear marks burn the flesh below her eyes. She tries to fix her hair but the curls lie flat in the humid weather, limp across her shoulders. “Hi,” she says softly. 

“What’s wrong?”

She tries to smile but her eyes are sad. And although the happy, beaming Norma is sometimes easier to deal with, his real hunger is for teary eyed Mama Bates, the one who puts her hands on him all desperate and raw, and looks up at him, pleading. Like he could solve any problem in the world for her. When she looks at him like that, he feels like he could. 

She’s got a suitcase on the stoop behind her. Faintly, he realizes there is blood on her left index finger. A broken nail. 

“I left the boys,” she says. “I can’t go back. Not tonight, at least.”

“Why?”

“I…” she shifts. “It’s complicated, Alex. Look, I just… I don’t have anywhere else to go, okay?”

He puts a hand on the doorframe, leaning into it. “So you thought you could come here?”

Her eyes soften, fall. Then she starts to get angry. Her lips pinch and her eyes darken and that wrinkle by her mouth forms. He loves her all wild like this. She ends up getting so flustered that she almost knocks her suitcase over before stepping right up into him and snarling, “Well, excuse me for thinking we were friends, Alex. Jesus.”

This is not a good thing, them together. She is dangerous and the things he would do for her are dangerous, too. Nothing good will come of it. But still… He grabs her wrist as she turns to go. “Norma.”

“What?!”

He can feel the warmth of her skin beneath his. His grip tightens. “You can stay if you want.”

She glares at him. It’s adorable. “If I want?”

He leans away from the doorframe. It’s humid outside, but still cool. The air huddles in clouds of mist over the lawn. He shouldn’t be doing this, especially with all that’s happening, but he will. “Get inside,” he says gruffly, and ushers her in with one hand while picking up her suitcase with the other.

***

She feels out of place here, like she does almost everywhere in this town. An outsider, pretending to be in on things when she’s not. Norma hates that feeling. It’s like she’s not good enough and never will be, no matter who she’s friends with or what she does. 

After settling her stuff in a guest bedroom, Alex gets her situated on the couch and gives her a bourbon. She drinks it quickly.

“Is someone hurt?” he asks.

He sits on the couch next to her so they’re side by side. Not that facing him would make her feel any different. Over the past couple of months she’s become accustomed to having him in her space. Feeling his hands on her arms. He grips her tight, but not because he wants to hurt her. No, it’s different with him. She can feel his want, even though his face stays so stoic. 

He could be good for her. For Norman. For all of them. 

He could keep her safe.

“No one’s hurt,” she says. “It’s Dylan. He’s…” she shifts, crossing one leg over the other. Alex’s eyes flicker down to her legs, over the floral pattern of her skirt. It’s fleeting but it’s there, as are all the little moments between them lately. “His father has been staying with him.”

“His father?”

“Yes.”

She fiddles with the empty glass, drumming her fingers on the sides until he stands and pours her some more. It’s expensive bourbon. Not that she really knows, but it feels expensive. Everything about Alex feels expensive and mysterious and so damn controlled. “So there’s bad blood between the two of you? That why you left?”

“Mmm,” she says. The bourbon tastes better and better the more she drinks. “Bad blood. I guess you could call it that.” She tilts her head to look at him. There’s a part of her that just wants to mess him up, to ruin him. “Thank you for coming with me to Bob Paris’s house.”

Alex’s hand goes to his face. He rubs his forehead. “Yeah, that’s not going to end good.”

“Why not? It seemed like it went well to me.”

“To you, maybe.”

She stiffens. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shakes his head. “You don’t know what you’re doing. Bob Paris… he doesn’t play around.”

“I’m not playing around, either.”

He lets out a hiss. It’s an ugly sound. She draws back on instinct, watching as his eyes turn to her. “These guys will ruin you, Norma.”

Her heart beats hard in her chest. What was she thinking coming here? It was stupid. Maybe this isn’t what she thought—maybe he just feels bad for her. It’s so damn hard to get a read on him… “What the hell,” she says, “tell me what you really think.”

The smirk falls from his face. 

Her stomach flips. Usually it’s so easy for her to grace in and out of men’s lives, but this feels different. Alex tugs on her. Before, she always used men in the way that suited her needs and her needs only. With him, all she wants is to be looked at like an equal. “Jesus, Alex.” She rises and slams the empty glass on the table. “God forbid I stand up for myself.” She goes for her coat where it hangs on a wood rack near the door. 

“What are you doing?”

She grabs at it. “What the hell do you think I’m doing? I’m leaving.”

“Why?”

“It sounds like I’m too much of a liability for you.”

“Now, listen, I never said that, Norma. Don’t twist my words.”

She reaches for the door but he grabs her wrist. Squirming out of his hold, she goes for the knob again; he moves in front of her. His body is small, compact, but powerful. She could be like him. She could be powerful, too, if things weren’t so damn difficult all the time. 

“Norma,” he holds tight on her wrist. His other hand goes to her shoulder. “Stop.”

She wriggles under his grasp, the heat building in her face. What an irritating, insipid man. Let her in only to block her out. He is just like every other man in her life. There until it’s inconvenient and then they run. She is so tired of it. “Move,” she says. But he doesn’t budge. 

Tears form in her eyes. She pushes him. 

“You’re just like everybody else in this town,” she says. “You don’t care.”

His fingers tighten to the point of pain. His body is cool, his eyes unperturbed and that’s what bothers her the most. 

When she starts to cry, he pulls her into his chest. It’s like that day he left the motel. His touch feels unsure, but eventually he finds hold just above the small of her back. He is scared to touch her. If she wasn’t so upset, it’d be amusing. The big bad sheriff being afraid to put his hands on her. “Don’t assume things,” he grits out, and this time his voice has a fire in it she hasn’t heard before. “You don’t know me.”

Her gut goes hot. Weak. It’s not a feeling she’s familiar with; it shakes her. 

Norma breathes in deep, trying to calm herself. Eventually she leans into him and lets her hands go to his waist. 

***

After she’s done crying, he somehow gets her in the guest bed, under the covers. She looks like a kid. A wild angel. Her eyes are shut tight and her lips purse, heavy with exhaustion. That’s the thing about Norma—she’s always got so much to deal with. He wonders how she doesn’t just drop. 

He drinks a little more of the bourbon before getting in bed himself, but can’t sleep. 

He just lies there, staring up at the ceiling. The mist presses against the windows, grey and gloomy. It smells like alcohol but on his shirt, when he breathes deep, he catches just the slightest hint of her perfume. 

After a while, he hears the guest bedroom door creak open. Quiet footsteps in the hall. He goes still. Then a shadow slips over the carpet and she’s opening the door to his room, her hair wild around her shoulders, cheeks rosy from crying. 

He sits up. A flurry of something strikes his chest. It feels like fear, but it’s not. “What happened?”

She keeps her eyes trained on his. She’s changed outfits. The floral skirt is gone, replaced by a satin robe, the same one he used to watch her strip out of when he lived at the motel, staring breathless as her silhouette moved across the window.

“Norma?”

“I don’t want to be alone.” 

She crosses the room, padding delicately over to the bed. Her gaze never wavers. She pulls back the sheets and slips under them, her weight barely shifting the mattress. 

He goes still as the heat of her body warms the sheets. She pulls the comforter up under her arms and scoots in closer to him, watching. He doesn’t make a move. It’s like a game with her—push until he makes her stop. See how much she can get away with. 

And she could get away with almost anything.

“He hurt you?” Alex asks. “Dylan’s father?”

She exhales. Her breath is sweet. “Yes.”

He lies down on back again but his muscles are all tense. His skin feels overheated. He’s settling his head against the pillow when he feels her hand snaking out, smoothing over his abdomen. She presses in close to him—her chest to his ribcage and he can feel her heart beating. Her head rests on his shoulder. 

He shouldn’t, but he lets his hand brush over hers. 

She looks up and a whisper of her breath tickles his neck. He turns. His heart is beating so hard, like he’s on a bust or a chase, but not even gunning people down gives him pleasure like this anymore. There’s nothing in this town that makes him feel this way. 

Just her.

He moves his hand so he’s cupping her neck. She leans into him, meets his mouth halfway.

Her lips are soft as he imagined, but she’s rough. Demanding. 

They kiss for a long time. She keeps pressing up into him, her hands running down his stomach, across his neck, behind his head. She marks him. But he just lets his hand linger on her neck. Keeps it steady there. Norma doesn’t need him to make any moves. She will control who does what, when. She always has.

“Alex,” she says, panting, and pulls away from him. 

He just stares at her, feeling drunk even though he’s not. He pushes a lock of hair behind her ear and immediately her eyes go dark with lust. She licks her lips, shifts, draping a leg over his waist so she’s straddling him. Her thighs, the crux of her is warm. When he puts his hands on her waist, he gets hard just from feeling her. 

Eventually he risks it and his hands move to the sash of her robe. Over the knot that ties it all together. Fingers moving with a nimble patience he doesn’t feel, he’s able to undo the tie and the satin parts. Pale flesh flashes in the darkness of the room. 

His breath catches. 

Norma smirks. She loves it—he can see it in her face. She drinks in her power over him.

After he’s gotten a good, long look, she leans down so her breasts press into his chest, her mouth sucking at his throat. He pulls tight on her hips, grinding up onto her as she starts to kiss him again. 

In this moment, he finally understands why her sons are the way they are. Why every man that’s approached her since she’s moved here has turned to ashes under her hands. 

She could ruin him and he’d die a happy man.


End file.
